Snow Day
by hey-sass-butt
Summary: Cas thinks back onto one of the few times he actually enjoyed the snow. Oneshot. Very fluffy. Destiel.


Castiel takes his hands out of the pockets of his trench coat and brushes the snow off of the top of the headstone in front of him. It's a simple headstone, wide and short, made of a dark gray rock. It stands in the middle of of a large, flat plot of land, with a single tree growing above it.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel can't help but smile as he says the familiar phrase. He reaches out and lets his fingers graze over the etched lettering.

It has been a few years since Dean died. Of course, as Dean had aged, Castiel, being an angel, had not. Nonetheless, Castiel had stayed dutifully and blissfully by Dean's side until the very end. Not a day since had gone by where Castiel didn't wake up and thank the universe for the amazing life he had been able to share with the man whom he regarded as the most remarkable being in existence.

"It's beautiful outside today," Castiel continues talking to the tombstone. "Which is strange because, as you know, I hate the snow. It's cold, and wet, and it makes everyone lethargic and bitter." As if to prove his point, a cold breeze passes through, making the tails of Castiel's coat flap. He wraps it tighter around himself.

"Of course," he adds with a fond smile, "the snow isn't always bad." Castiel lets his hand rest on top of the gravestone as he thinks back to their last romp in the snow.

* * *

Dean had still been fairly young, all things considered. He was 52 at the time, and his hair had just begun to look as if someone had sprinkled it with salt and pepper. He was still lean and muscular, in excellent health, and his freckles showed up against his skin more than they had when he was younger. Some creases also began to appear around his eyes- Dean thought they made him look like an old man, but Castiel always said they only made Dean look even more handsome. His hands had started to look more aged as well, but that could never seem to bother Dean when Cas's fingers were wrapped around his own.

Dean walked into the kitchen where Cas was standing at a counter, making coffee.

"Good," Dean smiled, walking up behind Castiel and resting his chin on Castiel's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around the angel's waist. "You're dressed."

Cas turned in Dean's arms to peck him brightly on the lips. "Why?" Castiel asked as he furrowed his brow, noticing the red knit scarf wound around Dean's neck. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yep!" Dean answered cheerfully. "We're going to go play outside."

"No," Castiel said firmly. "We're not. I hate the snow."

"I know," Dean smirked, his green eyes gleaming impishly. Without another word, he bent slightly and hoisted the shorter man over his shoulder.

"Dean," Cas grumbled, squirming in Dean's grip. "Let me down." Dean just shrugged Castiel higher up on his shoulder in response.

Within a few seconds, they were out the door and standing in front of a snowbank that reached Dean's knees.

Cas grew more panicked. "Dean. Dean, please, whatever you do just don't throw me in the sn-" Castiel's plea turned into a yelp as Dean tossed him into the powder. Dean laughed loudly as he heard spluttering coughs emerge from the Cas-shaped hole in the snow.

"Look, Cas!" he grinned. "You're a snow angel!"

"Hardy har har," Cas said sarcastically as he dusted snow off of his hair. He stuck out an arm. "Now help me up."

"Don't be such a grump," Dean chuckled, bending to help Castiel. "You love me."

"I know," Cas agreed, gripping Dean's gloved hand tightly. "And you love me, too."

Dean caught the mischievous flash in Castiel's eyes a split second too late.

"Cas, wait-" Dean was cut off as he got pulled face-first into the snow pile. He laughed as he stood up, shaking the snow from his hair like a dog.

"Alright, you got me," Dean conceded, helping Cas up out of the snow. "I deserved that." He bent to brush the snow off his knees, and as he did so, grabbed a handful of powder. "Just like you deserve this."

Cas gasped out a laugh as the fistful of snow hit him square in the face.

"You're on," he grinned at Dean challengingly.

Soon, they were in the middle of a full-fledged snow-war.

An hour or so later, Castiel peered around the corner of their home, a snowball at the ready in his hand. He looked around suspiciously, but Dean was nowhere to be seen. Cas quickly crept from the building to hide behind a tall pine tree, still glancing around for the enemy.

"Looking for me?" Castiel looked up just in time to see Dean, high up in the tree, drop a branch's worth of snow right on top of his head. And hate the snow though he may, Castiel couldn't stop the bubble of laughter rising out of his chest.

Dean dropped nimbly down to the ground next to him and tilted his head, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile as he watched Castiel dissolve into laughter. Soon, both men were collapsed on the ground, laughing so hard that neither one made any sound.

"Okay," Dean gasped eventually, twining his gloved fingers through Castiel's bare ones. "What d'you say we go inside and warm up?"

Castiel turned and kissed the tip of Dean's nose, which had turned a comical shade of red.

"Sounds good."

Dean leapt up, hauling Castiel with him. They retreated quickly inside, both with cheeks red from the snow and sore from the smiling.

* * *

Castiel shakes himself back into the present.

"I think that might be my favorite memory ever," Castiel smiles as his fingers trace the lettering that spells out Dean's name. "And you're competing with things like the creation of the stars and the solar system, so that's saying something."

Castiel stands quietly for a moment, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the day. A sort of cold ache passes through his chest, but he smiles nonetheless. Dean's death was sad, of course, but even this slight emptiness Cas feels only serves as a reminder as to how much devotion and adoration he felt for the hunter. Eventually, Cas removes his hand from the gravestone and replaces it in his pocket.

"Bye, Dean," he murmurs. "I'll come visit again soon."

But before Cas can take a step, the tree above his head, unbidden by any wind, dumps a branch's worth of snow onto his head. Castiel laughs as he brushes the snow off of his shoulders.

"You got me again, Dean," he says, one corner of his mouth curling upwards. A second puff of snow drops down onto his shoulder.

"I know," Cas says, smiling down at the headstone one last time. "I love you, too."


End file.
